


a fleeting thought; a fleeting dream

by odysseus



Category: LiEat (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Related, Crack Relationships, F/M, GOD I MADE MYSELF CRY WITH THIS FROM THE SHIP FEELS, Gen, PRETTY MUCH CRACKSHIP TBH???? BUT THEN IT BECAME SERIOUS AND I CRY, SOMEONE SHOULD TOTES SHIP IT WITH ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odysseus/pseuds/odysseus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyril Leonhearts is the apple of his eye... Well, it's not that he likes her, he's just enthralled with the idea of her.<br/>...Right?</p><p>[ might contain spoilers from LiEat III. ]<br/>[ takes place after LiEat III, au (?) where Cyril continues to be the phantom thief. and Brett is... Brett. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	a fleeting thought; a fleeting dream

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to 1beatheartbreak/Pipe, my friend of two years (or so.)  
> \---  
> she dragged me into hell and i'll be dragging her deeper.

The first time Brett saw the butterfly thief was during the gathering at Gold Town.

He had no idea how to feel about her, in all honestly. She’s a thief, the thief that made the news for a couple of months – one who took significant items illegally (even if she lived in an abandoned house in the slums Neil said the conman once lived in, even if she was poor and only had enough to scrape by) in the public eye. Due to that part of her, she was infuriating to even speak about, the butterfly who staves off her inevitable capture by the police force, just like a slippery fish.

Then again, one could say she’s… _ethereal_.

Her graceful eloquent speech, her fancy attire (the first time he saw her was in a monochrome tuxedo and a white, butterfly-esque cape; the second time he saw her was in a ballgown embroidered in gold and coloured in rose), androgynous figure that could have fooled the shadow dragon the second time he met her. How she made herself to appear in front of the crowd, giving everyone the show they wanted (and sometimes even getting people on her side).

She’s an enigma so fragile that even the slightest touch could break her, and Brett is intrigued.

Brett also feels that she’s **breathtaking**.

Despite her fragile appearance, she’s tough as a brick and strongminded – her elegant tone has a hint of firmness and resolve; charming. She can play the part of anyone, but even so, her core personality always gleams through the chinks of her disguise. Hotheaded, stubborn, witty – she holds grudges easily and her promise-keeping skills are exquisite, the way she holds herself off guard makes him feel almost bad he has to catch her (but then again, does he really?).

It’s hesitance in her eyes that makes him feel that all she needs is help, but he knows he doesn’t NEED to help her because she can keep herself upright and her friends and family hopeful –becoming the phantom thief she read in fiction ever since she was a child was a pipe dream, but she is still full of conviction.

The next time he sees Cyril, she’s inviting him up to the roof for a small chit chat. It’s not as if they hadn’t talked before- they banter when Brett finds her first (on rooftops, typical phantom thief’s hideout spot), Brett skeptical on whether he should get this entire scheme over with, Cyril relieved that he isn’t going to arrest her.

The next time he sees Cyril, her hair is braided and flowing in the cold, winter night’s wind, magenta locks undulated, crimson eyes sharp, but somehow soft.

**“…”**

**“Aren’t you getting sick of this charade?”**

It’s the first question he stutters out, but it’s a stupid one, because he knows this isn’t a charade, a game to the phantom thief, it’s life. It’s reality.

**“…What do you mean?”**

He’d already figured her reaction – it’s hilarious how despite their conversations are just fleeting and short, he feels like he knows her for a thousand years.

**“You know exactly what I mean.”**

Brett replies simply, lifting up his splayed hand to the city down below.

**“There’s another way to make a living, Butterfly –“**

The nickname he has to stick by, even though he wants to know her more personally – to help more people (to call her Cyril); Iris was one he helped, and the feeling made him feel so… joyful.

**“ –And you can quit all of this together.”**

Cyril’s face is unreadable, but he can see the tense expression written all over her face, a shadow casting over her eyes and her lips stretched into a thin line.

**“I don’t-“**

She pauses for a while, clears her throat, and then continues.

**“I say, I can’t.”**

Brett lifts his head up abruptly, an eyebrow raised and lips curved into a gritted frown.

**“Why can’t you?”**

**“You aren’t capturing me, that’s one thing.”**

Cyril explained, heaving a deep breath, hands reaching out to her butterfly mask before snatching it off, letting her hand turn limp and letting it dangle in equilibrium.

**“…I don’t have any networks, too.”**

**“You have me.”**

It’s a cheesy line, he knows, but he can’t help but to say it. Aren’t they more than just a cat and a mouse? All those friendly fleeting conversations in the pale moonlight, the butterfly standing upright and alert to anyone else arriving, quick to leave so as the figure that’s engraved into his brain seemed like a distant dream, a mirage, a thought.

The phantom thief can’t help but to chuckle, a slender hand raised to cover her mouth before she bursts out in snickers.  
Brett averts his eyes at once, face burning bright red from the embarrassment he caused himself.

**“I-i—That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”**

Beneath the crimson glow of her irises, he can see a young girl waiting, hoping that her siblings come back safe, the youngest out of five, the mood maker of the group—A young girl whose hopes had been dashed when the oldest headed out, a bag of money dumped in their hands as he escaped from the clutches of the gang he thought he had to join – Rage that enveloped the other (although its senses has dulled by now, he thinks) over the other’s betrayal, desire to find him again-

He’s so deep in thought over the enigma girl that he doesn’t notice Cyril slowly walking up to him, a hand raised to cup his cheek gingerly. She leans in and softly presses her soft, rosy lips onto his.

He immediately snaps out of his day(night)dreams, and he is redirected to reality—the girl he’s enamoured with is kissing him.

So, the natural thing to do is to slowly wrap his arms around the other’s waist, right? To get a feel for the other, to get to know her better—But then he (and she) hears cluttered footsteps rising up to the rooftop, and the thief breaks the kiss almost instantly, disappearing under a flurry of phantom butterflies and the signature white cape flailing in the wind.

All that’s left of her presence is the mask she abandoned, black, blue and red, and this time he picks it up and keeps it as if to remind him that yes; she’s real, Cyril is real and she /kissed/ him.

The door opens with a slam and he greets the other immediately with a salute, the mask hidden behind him as he familiarized himself with the lies (that Cyril despises and him too, but he can’t let Neil and Iris and his other comrades know that he’s having a silent affair with the thief they’re trying to catch) that he began to tell a long, long time ago.

**“Yes, sir, I saw her –“**

Yes, he did.

**“ –But she was too quick for me to catch.”**


End file.
